Hope & Miracles by Amy Newmark

Author:Amy Newmark
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chicken Soup for the Soul

Mother’s Day Surprise

Love is not singular except in syllable.

~Marvin Taylor

“I’m going for a bike ride and I’ll be back in about three hours,” my husband shouted as he cycled out of the driveway.

“Be careful,” I warned, “it’s windy!”

Mark—my husband of thirty-two years—was training for a triathlon and it didn’t matter what the conditions were; he was going to keep to his schedule.

I remained on the porch until Mark was out of sight and then as soon as I closed the front door, tears formed in my eyes. It was Mother’s Day 2008 and my husband didn’t remember. There were no surprises: no card, no flowers, no chocolates, and no brunch — just a wave goodbye.

Training took up all of Mark’s free time until there was nothing left for us. Triathlons and marathons had replaced all that was left of our failing marriage.

Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I got in the car and drove to Hershey, Pennsylvania — the sweetest place on earth — for some hot chocolate. There was a shopping mall right off Chocolate Avenue with a bakery and coffee shop. It wasn’t exactly Mother’s Day brunch, but it was better than staying home.

Hershey was only twenty minutes from our house, but it took much longer than usual because it was so windy. I had to grip the wheel hard or the car would veer off the road. Then it hit me. If I was having a hard time keeping the car on the road, how was Mark managing with his bike? A chill ran up my spine. I couldn’t ignore the feeling that something terrible was going to happen. My mind raced as I contemplated all the possibilities and nearly missed the Hershey exit. The parking lot for the bakery was nearly empty—another painful reminder that other families were celebrating Mother’s Day.

When I stepped inside the bakery, there were all kinds of surprises waiting on the pastry shelf. I picked out an iced lemon pound cake and ordered a large hot chocolate with whipping cream. The server asked if I wanted peppermint sprinkles on top and I nodded yes.

I sat near the window facing the parking lot and in between bites of pound cake and sips of hot chocolate I had a queasy feeling. I couldn’t explain it—just a strange sensation that something wasn’t right.

Just when I was about to take another bite of pound cake, my cell phone rang. I fumbled around in my purse and realized it was Mark’s number. Relief washed over me.

“Hi honey, where are you?” I prompted.

“Are you Connie Pombo?” asked an unfamiliar voice.

“Yes, and who are you?” I questioned.

“I don’t want to upset you, but your husband has been in an accident,” he explained with an unnerving calm. “I’m a paramedic and we’re on our way to Hershey Medical Center. We should be there in about ten minutes. Your husband had your number pre-programmed into his cell phone in case of any emergency.”

“What kind of accident?” I asked. I could hear

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